MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS.
The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated, meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to herself, was not founded yet.
Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns," meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of the epistle, matter of greater interest.
"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him. Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession. It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong—in short, so naturally refined—a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like—and I do not like the way with which he looks at Paula.
"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it—but you are not to misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very beautiful they are—I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste. Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard would have been oblivious of shoulders.
"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of the Apostolic Succession—in short, I never saw him at such a disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away.
"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out."
Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference thereto were not cheerful.